


An Experience Short Lived

by Ava_cat



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Death, Death as a character, Death is non-binary, Hospitals, I have no clue what I’m doing, My First AO3 Post, Near Death, POV Second Person, and also has sharp teeth cause I can, but not very much of it, ice chips, its like two paragraphs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_cat/pseuds/Ava_cat
Summary: I wrote this at two am please just enjoy it and don’t criticize. Also: this has graphic depictions of pain in it so please be aware of this.
Kudos: 1





	An Experience Short Lived

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at two am please just enjoy it and don’t criticize. Also: this has graphic depictions of pain in it so please be aware of this.

A figure stands before you. It seems to be neither man nor woman, but human nonetheless. You do not know why they, or you, for that matter, are here. You do not ask, for you feel no curiosity, despite not knowing where you are. The whole scene feels as if you are dreaming, and you cannot decipher whether or not it is real, nor do you want to.

They smile, and it is kind, but the teeth are sharp and threatening, which puts you off (no matter how soft the eyes are). They hold their hand out, one that is covered in a plain brown glove, and you notice the bracelet of bones around their wrist. You do not reach out to take it, no matter how much your mind urges you to. You take a step back.

Then, faintly, even with your hearing as bad as it is at the moment, you hear a noise. It’s an odd buzzing, and under it, the murmur of panicked voices. The figure shifts, and your attention stays back to them. They only pull their area back to their side and take their own step back, giving you space, but it was enough. You have lost the little sound you had heard, and it no longer hums in your ears. 

Instead, a voice you know is singing an old folk song from your childhood. It sounds like your mother, maybe your grandma, or perhaps your sister. You cannot tell, but it is familiar. You begin to hum along, except you can barely hear your own voice. 

The figure reaches out a hand again, and you realize that you had unconsciously moved forward. You take a hasty step back. This time, instead of being able to move freely, you run into something solid. You whirl around, and find only a pillar of marble. When you turn back, the figure is inches from your face.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound emerges. You cannot tell which is worse: the idea that you cannot hear yourself, or the notion you cannot make a sound. You can clearly hear the figures breathing, but there is no sign of your own.

“Come.” The figure speaks, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Their voice is raspy and quiet, as if it had not been used in a long time. They hold their hand out to you again, and this time, you find yourself reaching to take it. 

Your hand is centimeters away from theirs when sudden pain shoots through your gut, like a thousand knives are shredding your torso. You gasp, hunching over, feeling ill and exhausted. You sink to your knees, and they creak like a door with rusty hinges. 

As soon as your knees hit the floor, pain shoots through your ribs, heart, and spine. A stinging sensation spreads through your thighs. Your fingers grow numb, and the floor spins. You can barely look up at the figure, who is now murmuring words of comfort.

Shallow breaths are all you can take, because anything more hurts. A shudder runs down your spine, accompanied by the chill you get when you’re hit by a sudden gust of cold air, though you get no goosebumps. Your eyes itch, but you cannot reach up to rub them. Your ears ring, and you blink rapidly trying to make out anything in front of you.

The moment your vision comes into focus, you wish you could throw up at the spinning world. You cannot tell floor from ceiling. You instinctively wonder how you knew you couldn’t throw up, but dismiss it as another wave of pain sweeps through your body. 

The last thing you see is the figure smiling with no teeth, warm and welcoming. You want to take their hand, but you know no more.

When you next open your eyes, the pain has dulled, and you see two people in nurses scrubs moving around you. Your mouth is unbelievably dry, and you manage to gasp out some semblance of the word ‘water’. They turn to you, and one of them moves to spoon ice chips into your mouth.   
When they speak, you realize that the person in front of you is female.

“We nearly lost you there! Glad you’re back, it’s nice to see you open your eyes.”  
It’s only then that you realize that the figure you saw, dressed in white, with a ring of bones around their wrist, was death.


End file.
